Prodigal
by Volenta
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, the eldest Peverell brother did not die childless and neither did his children. And many centuries later a muggleborn girl finds that her ancestry is so much more than she had ever thought of it. Dark!Hermione
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:**

**This story will be majorly AU, meaning I will deviate from canon quite extensively in some degrees. I will aim to stay true to canon-characterisation, but I cannot promise anything. The story is Hermione-centric, though others will be featured.**

**Also, I am a firm believer in 'Anyone can go dark', so expect nothing really 'evil' for now. On another note, this chapter is solely to rush through the first year up until the 'dramatic plot thingie' from where the story will slow down and become more detailed and a lot less hurried.**

**No characters will be bashed, or 'hated for no reason other than existing', but because some events never happened some characters may react differently than in canon. **

**Also, I am not an expert on family-trees, but assume that Hermione had help from her parents and other family members. And taking in account the shortened life-span of people during the middle ages I think 14 generations is a decent number.**

**With that said, please enjoy and thank you for reading!**

* * *

**Prodigal**

Contrary to popular belief, the eldest Peverell brother did not die childless and neither did his children. And many centuries later a muggleborn girl finds that her ancestry is so much more than she had ever thought of it.

Dark!Hermione

**Chapter One**

_Be wary of their name_

_Remember their deeds_

_As for their death they themselves are to blame_

_Arrogance, longing and fear_

_Marked their eventual end_

_For against death_

_None can defend_

Healer Dilys Derwent on 'The Tale of the Three Brothers'.

Hermione Granger jammed on the previously singing hat with gusto, not intending to eagerly await its verdict as she started chanting _I want to go to Gryffindor, please, _in her head.

_'Oh, it seems we have a bit of a challenge here,' _the hat said _in her head_, Hermione nearly shrieked but forcibly kept her jaw shut at the last second to prevent the sound from escaping as she re-adjusted her seat on the rickety old stool she sat on. Shrieking wasn't something a Gryffindor did, after all, and she _dearly _wanted to be in the house of professor Dumbledore and professor McGonagall, who stood next to her now.

_'Gryffindor, please, mister hat,' _Hermione pleaded, awkwardly relaying the message through her thoughts while her subconscious was already shooting questions left and right on _howwhywhenwhat _was with the hat and _how _it could even be _sentient_!

_'Mmm-hmmm,' _the hat drawled thoughtfully, _'are you sure? Ravenclaw would suit you better and you have the ambition for Slytherin. Hmmm, no, not Slytherin then, that one's out. Ravenclaw, maybe? You would fit in splendidly there, they are very studious and appreciate a good debate, you'd do well in Ravenclaw.'_

Hermione swallowed thickly, she wanted _Gryffindor _because she could be brave! She could, really, and Gryffindor was everything she liked, good and noble and courageous and-

_'Stubborn, you seem to have that one down already. Well if it isn't Ravenclaw then it has to be-' _

"**Gryffindor,**" the hat bellowed loudly as professor McGonagall picked it up from her head and smiled kindly at Hermione, who immediately beamed back before hurrying to the loudly cheering Gryffindor table. She looked down to see her tie, which was a plain black when she entered, was now sporting the famous red and gold that Gryffindor was renowned for. And Hermione smiled, she got what she wanted, Gryffindor would be great.

oOoOoOoOo

Hermione dabbed at her face with a towel as she glared darkly at the mirror hanging in front of her, the tear marks made by her previous angry tears had left her looking even more dishevelled tha normal, her bushy hair sticking out at all ends and her eyes red and puffy. _Gryffindor, _Hermione decided as she folded the towel with jerky motions, _was awful_.

The girls in her dorm were vain airheads, and while her mum had often told her that, 'no Hermione, not everyone is as smart as you are, you shouldn't judge them on that', she still couldn't find it in her to like them. They were just so _different_, they talked about boys and ponies and clothes while she just wanted to read a book or make her homework. They didn't get that she wanted to _learn_ and _work_.

And then the _boys_, they were _horrible_ and _mean_. They were thick, neanderthal _pigs_ and only disliked her the more she tried to help them get their work right. That stupid Ronald Weasley was the worst, the brainless idiot criticising her every move and mocking her when she got her spells right.

The last couple of days Hermione regretted now having went with Ravenclaw when the hat offered it, it had sorted thousands of students and probably knew what was best. But no, she had to be stubborn as a _Gryffindor _and demand to be sorted in the house of the 'Noble and Chivalrous'.

Apart from that Hermione did like Hogwarts, if only for the classes. The teachers, with the notable of exemption of professor Snape, were all fair and friendly and taught them well. Even professor Quirrel, whose stutter made him hard to follow, taught them relevant things. And then there was the _magic, _it was just incredible, breath-taking and oh-so _new_. Hermione could spend years in the school's huge library and still be amazed by the simple, everyday spells people used left and right. Charms to tie shoelaces, spells to open windows or fold paper and quills that corrected grammar or could actually _know _the answers!

Yes, Hermione decided, she might dislike Gryffindor but Hogwarts as a whole was simply _magical_.

oOoOoOoOo

But it wasn't until the fifteenth of November that anything worthwhile happened to Hermione, yes she'd still been treated like trash by her housemates and still received lots of points from her teachers when she once again performed admirably in all of her classes, but aside from that life at Hogwarts went virtually unchanged.

But that day, the fifteenth, marked a changed. Because the day before Hermione had asked professor Binns, Hogwarts resident ghost-teacher whose lessons were 'deadly dull', if there was something she could do for extra credit.

Professor Binns had looked at her, vacant, see-through eyes staring at her face for a few moments before the ghost had nodded, "I'll think of something, miss Gregors."

"It's Granger, sir," Hermione corrected immediately, "but thank you, sir, thank you."

The professor hovered away then, disappearing after he went right through one of the walls.

Hermione just grinned to herself as she returned to the library, it was always good to have an ace in the pocket if, for some reason, she got anything less than full marks for History of Magic.

The next day though, during their weekly History of Magic class, professor Binns asked for their attention, waking up three-quarters of the class that was sleeping and snapping others out of their daze.

"At the end of the school year all of you will hand in a family tree going back at least five generations in order to receive extra credits," the ghost intoned in his extraordinary toneless voice, "and for next week I want a three-inch essay on the werewolf code of conduct. Class dismissed."

And with that the professor floated back out of the classroom through the dusty chalkboard, that probably hadn't been used since the man died, leaving the combined class of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors to talk among themselves as they slowly filed out of the room.

"This is so easy," Ronald Weasley crowed excitedly to Harry Potter, "I'll just owl mum, she knows all that stuff, or even better, I bet Percy knows, I can get it done now and have more free time!"

"But I don't," Harry muttered dejectedly as he grabbed his bag and shoved his book inside, "the Dursleys would rather eat dirt than tell me about my parents. I guess I'll have to ask Hagrid, maybe he can help me out."

Ron just looked apologetically at his friend and slapped him on the back, "I bet Binns won't notice if you just write something down, like Charlie said on how Trelawney doesn't know how everyone fakes her class. Divination's supposed to be real easy because of that."

Harry just sighed before he and Ron got lost in the crowd gradually leaving the classroom.

But out of all the students Hermione was easily the most excited, though the assignment wasn't what she had expected it had the possibility to be even _better_! She could try to trace her family tree all the way up to see if she did in fact descent from a wizard or if muggleborns sprouted magic 'out of nowhere'. If she did have relatives that had magic she could owl them, which sounded silly she decided immediately, _owling someone_. But she'd _owl _them and maybe they could help her figure out more about the wizarding world. It was a pity Hogwarts didn't offer classes, because while they did teach her _magic _they didn't teach how to _live _like a witch.

oOoOoOoOo

Weeks passed swiftly as Hermione drowned herself in her homework, classes and reading. So far her favourite class was transfiguration, with charms a close second, and she loved learning more about the subjects. So really, it wasn't that big a surprise that while the others were celebrating Halloween (which was _awful _for your teeth, or so her parents said) that she and some die-hard Ravenclaws were enjoying a good book in the library.

So when the huge doors to the library closed shut with a 'bang' that echoed throughout the spacious room most of its inhabitants jumped up, one particularly stressed seventh-year event went as far as to shriek and fell off her chair.

"No worries," Madam Pince snapped acidly from behind her desk, overlooking the rows upon rows of bookcases and those who dared read what they contained as she sent a withering glare at the girl that fell off her chair, "a troll is in the castle, the doors are closed as a precaution. A teacher will get us when the situation is under control."

Hermione, knowing all too well what a troll could do thanks to _Magical Monsters, _so she was grateful for the oak doors that kept it out. She focused back on the notebook, because parchment was impractical for normal notes, that contained the last seven generations of Grangers before her. She found the most recent generations were easy to find and was hard-pressed to focus on _just _her immediate relations and had to force herself not to go into full detail on her cousins, great-aunts and other relatives.

And when professor Sinistra came to retrieve them just before midnight, apparently the troll had fortified itself in one of the girls lavatories, Hermione was pleased to see her family-tree had now gone up to include William Archibald Granger and his wife, Mary Pulley, who were her great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparents, though as of yet she had not found any magical relatives among her muggle ones.

Later that night, once professor Sinistra escorted her and the Ravenclaws to their common room, Hermione thought back on that day. She could've been hurt, or even worse, killed, by the troll had she been in the facilities at that time. But that didn't matter, Hermione supposed, because she wasn't killed, hurt or even in the general vicinity of the troll at the time. Besides, the teachers should've come to rescue her had they known she was there?

And so Hermione let herself fall back on her maroon covers, ignoring the hushed conversation going on between Lavender and Parvati as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

oOoOoOoOo

Christmas passed and perhaps the best gift she got was the still slightly awkward friendship of Neville Longbottom, a shy boy that hadn't been bullied but still wasn't a_ real_ part of the house, just like her. She found him struggling with his transfiguration homework and offered her help and from that a fledgling friendship had grown. She sent him a card and a book, _Various Fungi and Their Uses, self-updating edition_ by Paulus Hedgeroot, for Christmas and in return he gave her a book on charms that she didn't previously own and a bag of chocolate frogs (which she indulged on only sparsely, they were bad for her teeth after all).

They sat next to each other in various classes, a definite improvement over sitting all on her own, and she helped him prevent any further catastrophes during potions. It earned her more scorn from professor Snape, who quite disliked her if his frequent comments of 'know it all' were to be trusted, but she didn't mind. She'd rather have one person _like _her than having Snape _not _like her. Professor Snape like no one, save for his Slytherins.

She went home for the holidays, eager to see her parents, and spent the two-week holiday reading the books her various family members bought her (mostly muggle novels, Neville's gift being the exception) and working on her family-tree. She found that the further she dug the harder it became, much like hitting rock after going through smooth soil, but she was undeterred.

She was Hermione Granger, no project, class, homework or assignment would _ever _get the best of her!

oOoOoOoOo

Once Hermione returned to Hogwarts she felt herself slip back in her usual routine, the only exception being she now managed to fit Neville in. Time spent working ahead on assignments and classes and stuffing in that extra inch on her essays were now spent tutoring Neville in classes he had difficulty with. She found herself reading on ways to improve pronunciation, wand movement and other tiny things that could make the difference between levitating a feather and summoning a buffalo. It helped, Neville's grades rose ever-so-slightly and Hermione couldn't help but feel proud of their combined hard work.

Neville opened up to her after a few months, telling her little titbits about his life to which she couldn't help but feel horrified by.

"Your uncle _dropped you from a window_!" Hermione screeched, glad they weren't in the library for she surely would have been kicked out, "that's-, _that's child abuse!_ He should be arrested, he can't _do _that!"

Neville shuffled his feet awkwardly, looking down at the smooth stone floor before glancing back up at Hermione's flushed face, "it's not that bad. I bounced, 'twas my first display of magic. They were so proud that my uncle bought me Trevor, see, nothing bad came from it."

Hermione breathed in deeply through her nose, the courageous part of her that once demanded Gryffindor raising its head and demanding justice, "you could have died, Neville, what if you _hadn't _bounced?"

"But I did," Neville said, not getting why she was so angry, "and it's done now. I bounced, I had magic, I wouldn't have _died_."

Hermione decided to let it drop but not without an angry huff, wizards had no logic. None at all.

oOoOoOoOo

The remainder of the year flew by, Ronald Weasley had toned down his behaviour and stopped egging on her at everything she did, even apologizing once which she found really gratifying if not long overdue, and she and Neville became _friends_. They weren't the awkward acquaintances they were before Christmas anymore and Hermione found that she liked it, having a friend was _nice_. It was certainly better than having none, or being friends with her airheaded roommates who couldn't hold a decent conversation on anything not about boys, make-up or fluffy animals, and Neville was nice. He was dependable and sweet, she supposed, a good friend.

Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter did get in trouble though, they attempted to enter the 'room you don't enter unless you wished to die a very painful death' and one of them ended up poisoned and had to stay in Saint Mungo's for a day before he was sent back to Hogwarts. And when they returned, the other stayed for observation, they both told wild stories about a cerberus, a giant chess set that wanted to kill them and flying keys.

It would've been a good, enjoyable, if not slightly wild, story hadn't they lost Gryffindor 50 points each.

In the end even the points Harry and the Gryffindor Quidditch team made with winning their games didn't put them back on the track for first place, they ended up second next to Slytherin. Professor Snape had turned to giving his students points for wearing their clothes 'correctly' and for 'sitting with poise benefiting of a Slytherin' and took away points for 'being in the wrong place' or 'being a distraction'.

Professor Quirrel did mysteriously disappear the day Harry and Ronald returned to Hogwarts, which was odd, but a replacement was found in professor Flitwick who temporarily took over the classes and mainly had them read and write essays though he occasionally told stories of his past as a professional dueller.

In the end Hermione aced her end-of-year tests, which didn't mean anything until her O. and N.E. , and even Neville got pretty decent grades.

She handed in her family-tree, going to a good fourteen generations though her personal version went up further and she dearly intended to finish that one. She got her extra credit, as did the others for the assignment really was too easy, and went home with the train. Once on the platform she told, more like _ordered_, Neville to write her before wishing him a happy holiday.

Then she ran to her parents and enveloped them in a hug before following them to their car, it was _good _to be home.

oOoOoOoOo

Once home Hermione dove right back in her family-tree, she had found a surprising number of squibs that were her great-great-great-great-(and a lot more of –greats) grand-ancestors and she finally felt she was getting somewhere as she rummaged through the huge assortment of papers, books, records and even diaries she had collected during her search. Wizards, quite surprisingly, meticulously wrote down their own lineage and ancestry, so the moment she found a squib she could match it to names found on birth-records from notable families. Most disowned their sons of daughters that didn't inherit magic but they didn't think of removing every sign of their birth, like the record made the moment they were _born_, so once again wizarding logic fell short.

Then she wrote down the last name she'd been capable of tracing and put it all the way on the top of the huge paper (consisting of many tiny, taped-together pieces of paper) and with a slightly shaking finger she traced the line that ended in _her _name all the way to highest end of the family-tree only for it to stop at that one, particular name.

Her ancestor was a _wizard, _she had wizarding blood (however diluted) and now knew there was a reasonably plausible reason for her own magic.

It meant that she descended form a man, a man whose name she vaguely recalled standing on the back on a book containing a collection of fairy tales, a real _wizard_.

Because there, on high up on her neatly-inscribed family-tree stood one name, standing out from all others:

_Antioch Peverell._

* * *

**_Thank you for taking the time to read this._**

**_Volenta_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's note:  
I want to thank those who read/reviewed/favourited/followed Prodigal, it makes me really happy!**_

_**So I present chapter two, hoping it is decent. And once more I want to emphasise that going dark is different than being dark, going dark takes a while. Give Hermione her time and she'll be Dark!Hermione, but she is first and foremost a scholar, wishing to know just from a scholastic perspective.**_

_**Also, Hermione is of the opinion that two magical parents can have a squib, who can have a squib, who can have a squib. In her mind a muggle born to two muggle parents that know about magic is a squib, because a squib is a muggle that knows magic exists. She reasons that muggle=nonmagic person/parent of muggleborn, squib=nonmagic that knows about magic from parents(wizard/squib) and wizard=magic person.**_

_**That said, enjoy.**_

* * *

**Prodigal**

Contrary to popular belief, the eldest Peverell brother did not die childless and neither did his children. And many centuries later a muggleborn girl finds that her ancestry is so much more than she had ever thought of it.

Dark!Hermione

**Chapter Two**

_The eldest was the worst_

_His greed foretold his fate_

_For with him, death did not wait_

Arcturion Black, on 'The Tale of the Three Brothers'.

Hermione ran down the stairs to meet her parents, one of her less neat and _much _smaller copies of the family-tree securely in her grasp.

"Look, mum, dad!" She exclaimed as she slapped it onto the dining table, rattling her father's cup of coffee and nearly making the mug fall over in her enthusiasm, "we have a _wizard _ancestor!"

"Oh," her mother exclaimed softly as she bent over the paper and gave it a curious look, scanning the various unfamiliar names that eventually gave way to names she recognized from what she herself had told Hermione about her family's history. "Look, John, she is right. Hermione, dear, isn't this up to where cousin Maxwell came?" Her mother's well-manicured finger tapped a name somewhere in the middle.

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, bushy hair bobbing along as she pointed to another name, "yes because from that point we've been a family of squibs. Or rather, descendants of one squib so muggles, really, but still with _some _knowledge of magic so just _like _a squib, but then more _muggle_. See, here, Desdemona Peverell married Hubert Granger. From that point we've been the Grangers because Desdemona Peverell was the last of _eight _generations of muggles, or squibs, all direct descendants of Antioch Peverell, who was the oldest of three brothers. I believe there was a book about him somewhere in Diagon Alley, can we go, please? Mum? Even to just _look_?"

Margret Granger laughed, "well, we _did _have a trip planned to see London again this week. How about it, John, shall we do it now or do you still want to wait?"

John just grumbled, drinking his coffee with his trademark I-need-coffee scowl as he unfolded his paper, "hmpf."

"That's a yes, dear, let's buy you some more books then," Margret decided as she patted her husband's shoulder and shoved a plate of scones in his direction, "John, I want to leave just after tea-time. I expect you to be ready by then."

Hermione grinned excitably as she rushed back up the stairs, intent on making a list of what she'd buy. She hadn't yet received her Hogwarts letter with the books she'd need for the next year but she had an idea of what she would and wouldn't need. And aside from that she had a whole list of books she wanted to buy for her self-study, some light reading and background reading on her newfound (albeit long dead) wizarding relative. She knew for sure he was a wizard, the records she had been using for the last couple of months had his name written under various duelling forms and he was even listed in her _Notable Wizards and Witches throughout the Centuries _book, in the 13th century section. It didn't say _why_, aside from being a 'notable dueller' but those were there aplenty, but he was in there and that was what mattered.

Later that afternoon, once again sitting in her parent's car, she was excitedly rattling off every single thing she learned while at Hogwarts. Her parents listened, entranced by the stories she wove about flying broomsticks, moving staircases and plants that could eat a person whole. Her stories sounded so much better in person than written on paper in the letters she sent home every week.

oOoOoOoOo

Diagon Alley was just as Hermione remembered, a dishevelled place _bursting _with life and, most importantly, _magic_. Some tiny stalls were laid out in front of the shops, witches and wizards loudly advertising their various, brightly coloured and decidedly _odd _wares as they clamoured for attention. Hermione turned her nose up at the few glaring at her for her muggle attire, she knew they were prejudiced (horribly so) and thus justified her actions easily.

She directed her parents to Gringotts, the huge building with its guards position outside the golden doors was very easy to find amongst the less inconspicuous shops lining the cobblestone road.

The pound-to-galleon booth was empty of any other muggleborns, Hermione noted immediately, it was to be expected. The train had only arrived a few hours ago, no one just back from Hogwarts (save for her and her parents) would be visiting the Alley for at least a while yet.

After her parents converted their money she ushered them inside Flourish and Blotts and once again was hit by the nostalgic smell of _books_. Really, the shop was incredible. Shelves that went up to the ceiling, stacks of books higher than a person and the books. Books that were small, big, _huge_, filled with drawings, words, and some were even _empty_. Some were old, bound in leather and with thin, fragile parchment for pages and others were lavishly covered with expensive silk and with intricate titles and fine decoration on the spine. Yes, Hermione decided, this was by far her favourite shop.

She was eagerly browsing through the various sections, politely refusing the help offered by the clerk for now, and her parents stayed close. They weren't eager on losing her in an environment they didn't fully know and feel comfortable in, much less one where they were seen as second-class citizens.

"Look," Hermione said happily as she gingerly picked a thick book from between several others on the shelf, "this is one Neville told me about, you remember him from my letters, right? Well, he said it's common for wizards to look up their ancestry because purebloods care very much about lineage, as does the rest of the world apparently, because 'dropping names' can help you in the future."

"Wasn't that Neville boy a pureblood," her father asked as he ran a head through his own brown curls, "like the other boy you mentioned, the one you called inbred?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted, "but Neville is nicer, even a bit shy, but he is a pureblood too. He's been raised by his gran and great-uncle so he knows a lot about that stuff, he said that if I wanted to know more I should buy _A comprehensive guide to notable, respectable families, extant and extinct_. He says it updates every few month, so I don't have to buy a new one, and that apparently every family has one at home, or is supposed to anyway. He was forced to learn it all when he was eight so he would know who was who at Hogwarts, but he isn't really in that stuff. Like I said, he's shy."

"We'll take that one then," John agreed as he picked the book from his daughter's arms, immediately hunching over as the book's heavy weight hit him. He grunted as he adjusted its weight, "darn, Hermione, you could have warned me. This is _heavy_."

Hermione merely grinned, after a few months her of carrying her over-filled bag around had made her resistant to any but the heaviest books, and really, this one didn't even come close.

In the end she ended up buying _The Tale of the Three Brothers_, which was part of a book called _The Tales of Beedle the Bard, _ and it was supposedly a fairy tale _about _her ancestor, which was odd but slightly interesting as well, and she recognised it as the book she had first seen mentioning Antioch Peverell's name.

And aside from _The Tales of Beedle the Bard _she bought quite a bit of books she might not even necessarily need for her coming school year but could prove useful for the background reading she usually did for her papers or other assignments. The helpful clerk, who winked at her and told her he was a muggleborn too, had shrunken the books for her and promised that the charm would wear off within three hours as she wasn't allowed to un-shrink them herself.

And so they left Diagon Alley, grabbing some ice-cream for a parlour in muggle London before heading to the car for the drive home.

oOoOoOoOo

Hermione's fingers turned another page as she carefully sipped from her mug of hot chocolate, the book she bought was turning out to be quite interesting. It held various little facts on pureblood families, as well as the usual propaganda and a full list of mazes in the law purebloods could make use of, but apart from that is was a veritable well of information. The author was very detailed in his research ad had family-trees of almost every pureblood family that ever existed in the United Kingdom, it even held names of some Slytherin students (including Draco Malfoy, the prat) and she even saw a few of her teachers in it. She even saw Parvati's family-tree, apparently her cousin once-removed had married a 'muggle' and had a 'halfblood' with him.

It were tiny details like that that showed that the author was a pureblood, a prejudiced one, as well. Muggles, halfbloods and 'mudbloods', which Hermione guessed was a condensing name for a muggleborn, weren't even mentioned by name, with the notable exception being the last remaining members of a formerly prosperous family or one that could father pureblood children. Harry Potter, for example, was shown as 'Harry James Potter, halfblood' meaning that if he married and fathered a child with a pureblood girl his children would be pureblood by default.

Hermione snorted, this was wizard's logic at its best. Instead of naming it a 'three-quarter blood', which he was, he was falsely categorized as a halfblood. Really, wizards made no sense.

She had already written Neville about her discovery, having sent the sent to a wizard post-office that had muggle front so that muggleborns without an owl of their own could send letters without having to trek all the way to Diagon Alley, or another wizarding community for that matter. The business was founded by a muggleborn, as no pureblood would _ever _do _anything _for a 'mudblood', Hermione supposed, and it was free of charge. You simply sent a mail, they then sent it per owl to the addressee. Professor McGonagall had pointed it out when she asked, apparently she wasn't the only muggleborn not in possession of an owl, and her head of house advised her to send a can of owl-treats along with her envelope one day as the owner appreciated that more than money. Apparently running the business wasn't that expensive nor hard if the owner could do it without income.

Hermione turned another page, she really should send one, they did save her a lot of trouble after all, doing it for free.

In the end, two weeks and one hasty trip back to Diagon Alley for extra books on the subject, Hermione _finally _sat down to _think._

She had a list of facts written down in front of her, assorted from the two books she had just read, and truth be told they disturbed her.

Why?

Because Antioch Peverell was _dark_. Not you-know-who dark but definitely not someone she'd _ever _want to run into. Because _duelling_, back in the thirteenth century, meant _killing _your opponent for _sports_. And Antioch Peverell had been _good _at it, until he was murdered. _The_ _comprehensive guide to notable, respectable families, extant and extinct _had said he was murdered by the family of one of the wizards he himself killed and _the Tale of the Three Brothers_ claimed he was murdered so another could control his mythical, all-powerful wand that he was boasting about.

She was more inclined to believe the first book though, the latter being a _fairy tale_.

But that wasn't really what mattered, what mattered that she descended (even though that was _centuries _ago) from a _dark _wizard. But that was where she had to sit down, _think_, and write a list of what she _knew _and what she _though_.

She _knew _Antioch Peverell was dark, the books only supported that fact, but what did dark mean? The older books mentioned it as if it was _blonde _or _has blue eyes_. Something normal, something that was to be _expected_. The newer books were different, _the dark was bad_, they seemed to say, _so don't go there_. Ron Weasley and other, fellow Gryffindors had echoed those opinions, dark wizards were _bad_, _evil _and _dark_. They were of the opinion that Slytherin was a training ground for dark wizards, dark had become what 'mudblood' seemed to be for the purebloods.

An awful, demeaning word that had a whole history behind it.

She had, of course, sought up 'mudblood' and a whole world of prejudice against muggleborns and their family had opened up for her. How the parents of muggleborns had once made up part of the inquisition, how muggleborns were turned against their own and how troubles had erupted between what seemed like two different people, those who had one foot in the magical and another in the muggle world against those raised firmly on magical ground.

And because of that, because muggleborns were also 'part muggle' the purebloods thought they could turn on them. Of course, that was centuries ago and by now it was just mostly old prejudice that only really said 'muggleborns are trash', but the point remained that there was a _history _behind such a simple word. It didn't take away the indignation she felt at 'her kind' being called something that basically meant _dirtied blood, _as if blood could be _muddy_, but she understood. Not all, because she never would

And that was exactly the case with the word _dark_. But something in her said that there was even more, that there was _more _to be found if only she opened her eyes to properly _look _for it. That there was a whole world hidden behind a flimsy gate, waiting for her to open it just like she once, figuratively speaking, opened the gate that led to _magic_.

But another part of her was cautious, wanting so desperately to heed her classmates' comments and warnings about dark wizards and witches.

But she was Hermione Granger, she'd never back out of an assignment, no subject could get the best of her. So she opened one of her most recent purchases, another history book, and grabbed her cup of tea (no more than one mug of hot chocolate a day, her parents said) and set out to know just _what _they meant when they said _dark_ and how the perspective on it seemed so different now than what she'd read in older books.

She was Hermione Granger, she had a question, a _mission_, and she would find the answer.

* * *

**_Thank you for taking the time to read this._**

**_Volenta_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**  
**A slightly short chapter again, but we're getting to the good stuff soon, I promise.**

**Also, just to ensure, Voldemort _didn't _put a taboo on his name in his first war, but the people didn't know that + wizarding logic rules supreme, let's all fear a name people, join the fun.**

**On a side note, I refuse to follow the SuddenlyDark!Someone where the main character goes to Diagon Alley, goes to Flourish and Blotts/random Knockturn Bookstore and finds 'How To Be Dark For Beginners', 'One-Million Dark Curses', 'Sneaking in Shadows', 'Evil Monologues for Dummies' and 'Political Prowess for Poor Plebs' that help the main character instantly get it all. I don't do that, no eleven/twelve/thirteen/four(yes, I've seen four-year old Dark!Harry do such a thing)/CHILD would just, magically, find such an epic, all-compassing book that makes them instant 'dark lords'**

**So no, no epic 'dark' books bought in stores. They're somewhere, but not in the magical version of Barnes&Noble or even shady Knocturn establishments. An auror just needs to drink polyjuice/be Nymphadora Tonks to walk in and ask for 'a dark magic book, please'.**

**That's it, please enjoy and thank you for once more for the favourites/follows/reviews.**

* * *

**Prodigal**

Contrary to popular belief, the eldest Peverell brother did not die childless and neither did his children. And many centuries later a muggleborn girl finds that her ancestry is so much more than she had ever thought of it.

Dark!Hermione

**Chapter Three**

_The second's flaw was greed_

_For he longed, but did not need_

_Death fulfilled his request_

_And so the second grew obsessed_

_But long it did not last_

_For in the end it was he_

_Who sought out death_

Arcturion Black, on 'The Tale of the Three Brothers'.

She managed to talk her parents into joining her on another trip to Diagon Alley, they still refused to let her go on her own, only to be disappointed. There were no books on 'dark magic' or 'dark customs', there wasn't even a book that clearly _defined _what the difference between 'light' and 'dark' was and if there were other things like 'shady', 'sunny but with a chance of rain' and, perhaps, '_purple_'.

Once again wizarding logic had let her down, her primary school teachers had been very clear in what they thought was _good _research. You had to consult multiple sources, ask for people's opinions and look at the subject from both sides. Come up with arguments for and against so you could form your own, thought-through opinion. But it seemed that the wizarding world had no such rules, it actually reminded her a bit of what her teacher once told of propaganda used in the second world war where Jews were depicted as horrible beasts out to take the German maidens and steal their money except wizards did it the other way around. The 'light' was shown as the 'good', no explanation given as it was probably supposed to be self-explanatory, and dark was just that, 'dark'. The Germans, at the very least, 'supported' their claims with more lies, each and every book she read didn't, it was told as-is, like it was just a fact everyone was supposed to know.

And everything she read showed that dark wizards were all defeated by their 'light' counterparts, or in You-Know-Who's case, a toddler. Some were also defeated by others, according to _A History of Magic, _but that wasn't what mattered. What mattered was that they were almost _all _defeated, so if that was the case, why were 'dark wizards' such bad news if they kept losing?

Hermione groaned as she pulled one of her orange pillows over her head, letting her book fall down gently on her matrass. It just didn't make sense and all her hard work only resulted in a rather annoying headache. Right now she didn't know dark was bad because it was evil or _bad _because they just kept on losing.

Then she threw the pillow against her ceiling, narrowly missing her ceiling lamp as she turned to lie on her stomach, pressing her face in her matrass instead. It bothered her, not knowing, more than she let on. Her parents couldn't help her, the local library at a short walk away couldn't help her, her own, specifically chosen _books _couldn't help her.

And she couldn't really start asking everyone at Hogwarts about dark wizards, could she? Or during class, 'Yes, I know the answer professor McGonagall, but could you answer my question first? You see, I was reading about 'dark' magic and was wondering …'

That wouldn't end well, given how decidedly anti-dark the world seemed to be.

Hermione stared at her ceiling with a frown, the white paint doing nothing to quell her oncoming headache. She had just two weeks of her holiday left and her research had already taken up a solid portion of her time. She had, of course, finished her summer-homework first and once her list of required textbooks came in she had read them first too, but still, a sizable chunk of time was invested in trying to find something out that apparently no one wanted _anyone _to find out.

Another sigh escaped her lips as she stood up again, picking up the book she had been reading, _Grindelwald's Terror,_ and placing it back in one her shelves. Picking up one of her pens, she refused to use the much messier quills when she wasn't at school, she set out to write back to Neville.

_Dear Neville,_

_I haven't been able to find anything besides what I suppose is counted as common knowledge here, so my research hasn't really gotten very far. I hope to be able to find more books in the library back at Hogwarts, but I'm not very optimistic._

_Apart from that, I'm very glad you liked your birthday present, I wasn't sure you didn't own the book yet but it seems you didn't, so that's good. And have you really planted Devil's Snare? How did it go? Does it react well to the piece of greenhouse you covered with black cloth or does sunlight still shine through? How do you keep it from growing out of control and strangling you, the book suggested periodically casting lumos or daily trimming, but what works the best?_

_On that note, did you finish your homework yet? If you have any questions just ask them in your next letter, I've finished it already so I can help you if you need it. Also, professor Flitwick's essay isn't that difficult to write if you have How to charm your Charms, it isn't on the list but the clerk at Flourish and Blotts said it was very useful but a bit too broad in some areas to be put on the list of Hogwarts' required books. I've read it a couple of times now, when I wasn't busy with other work, and it is really interesting!_

_I hope the remainder of your holiday will be as lovely as mine is going to be, my parents are taking me to Cambridge to visit my grandparents and to go look at a lovely muggle bookstore they have there. It's become a bit of a tradition over the years to go there after visiting, it's very nice. Afterwards we're going to spend a week in a hotel at the coast, I think the town was called Swanage, we haven't been there before but relatives have and they say it's lovely so I'm looking forward to it._

_I'm looking forward to the first of September, I'm very excited to see you again and, of course, to see Hogwarts again. I've found that I've quite missed it, it's so, forgive me for the pun, magical._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

oOoOoOoOo

Her holiday passed quietly, her grandparents were pleased to see her again and pestered her to tell more stories about her 'fancy, Scottish boarding school' (they didn't know about magic) and she gleefully used the money they gave her to fill part of her suitcase (her trunk was for school supplies only) with books from that bookstore.

The trip to Swanage was lovely as well, the town lovely and the hotel room spacious and neat. They went to the beach a few times, when the weather allowed, though Hermione spent most of the time lounging on a towel with a book (muggle, of course) whilst her parents braved the not-quite warm sea water. Her mother, the more outgoing of her parents, even went as far as to take windsurfing lessons whilst her father watched, grumbling about a 'waste of money' and 'no way they'd buy a board'.

And in that way the last of her holiday passed quietly, time not-quite flying by as much as just going averagely. She ended up with a bit of colour on her cheeks from being forced to read outside in the scarce sunlight instead of remaining their shady hotel room or under some other form of cover. She did, however, remember to put sunblock on when going out, unlike her father who ended up having skin that could match the Gryffindor-red of her house. This, of course, made her mother dissolve into fits of laughter as her father grew, if possible, even more red in his face as he blamed his situation on her mum rather loudly. This made them spiral into another of their infamous arguments, ridiculous accusations and equally ridiculous excuses thrown at one another whilst bystanders looked on bemusedly. Her mum even brought up the 'I'm the one that _gave birth, _try beating that one!' which her father countered with his equally awful 'but I'm the one that had to _watch _while you dozed with the needle of your epidermal still stuck in your back while the _doctors _got her out, I'm even the one that ended up paying that bill!'.

Really, Hermione thought dispassionately as she hid her face behind _The return of the king_, her parents were so _embarrassing _sometimes. She wished she could just slip past them, preferably unnoticed, and return to their hotel room (not before stealing _their _keys) and remaining there until they inevitably made up and were so amazingly happy together once more.

She did love them, really, but sometimes she wished they were dogs, then she could just stick them in the backyard and leave them at it.

oOoOoOoOo

King's Cross at the first of September was busy, really busy. The station's muggle section was bursting with people and platform 9¾ was no different. Wizards an witches were hugging children, Hermione noticed Lavender was being smothered excessively by her mother and a vaguely familiar Ravenclaw prefect had two younger siblings clamped onto his leg, refusing to let him go.

Hermione scanned the platform for either Neville or his grandmother's tell-tale vulture hat, she'd seen it when she last excited the Hogwarts Express and before that had imagined it based on Neville's description of the impressively ugly thing. She couldn't find either of them though, so after a tight hug to both of her parents and her father helping her lift her immensely heavy trunk into the train she waved them goodbye a last time and went on to find Neville.

She found him in the same compartment they'd shared before setting off to find Trevor, the compartment empty save for him. She opened the sliding door and Neville startled, almost dropping his book.

Hermione's chest warmed with pride as he beamed up at him before engulfing the shy boy in a hug, he was reading _a book_!

"Is that the one I gave you for your birthday?" Hermione asked as she picked the book up from the floor, Neville had dropped it when he was dragged into her hug.

"Yeah," Neville mumbled awkwardly as he nodded, "my gran wanted me to thank you in person for it, so thank you, Hermione. I really appreciate it."

Hermione's grin grew as she beamed at him once more, "oh Neville, you don't have to thank me! I'm just glad you liked it, I really _was _worried you'd already have it in your possession. Did you like chapter ten? I have a copy at home, bought it when I did yours, and I never knew Rooibos was originally used and grown by wizards to soothe stomach aches before they came up with Stomach Soothers, I mean, who'd have guessed?"

Hermione sat back down on the seat as she pushed her trunk underneath it, "and then all the other plants from which I'd never have guessed they originated from wizards. I _knew Magical Herbs and Fungi_ said something about tulips, but to read they _really _were grown by wizards is just such a surprise."

Neville nodded again, sitting back down. "Ehh, well, I guess so. It's not really a surprise to me though, because to me they are just wizard plants, but I can imagine."

"You're so lucky you've been raised in this world, Neville," Hermione said as she shoved her trunk back into the middle of the compartment, forgetting to grab a book for the ride to Hogwarts. Popping the lid open she grabbed the one she laid on top of her stuff for that very reason before pushing the heavy thing back under the red couch.

"I'm really behind on some things, _Magical Customs for Misunderstood Muggleborns _said that there really should be something of an introduction to magical etiquette and such things when a muggleborn first starts Hogwarts. The world here is really backwards if you ask me, just look at You-Know-Who. I've read some books on him and only two, _two _Neville, just _two, _name him by anything but a moniker. Muggles all call Hitler by his name, as well as Stalin and Moa Zedong so I just don't get it. It's little, I know, but it's just so odd."

Neville had paled quite a bit, his knuckles grasping the cover of his book a bit stronger than necessary as he gulped.

"Oh Neville," Hermione breathed, "I'm sorry, I know you don't like the topic, I'll just shut up and-"

"No," Neville squeaked, "it's f-fine, really. But I don't know about Hitler or Stalling-"

"Stalin," Hermione corrected immediately.

"Stalin," Neville repeated slowly, "but back then, you know, during the war, people feared that _he _had placed a taboo on his name so people started referring to him as You-Know-Who to avoid saying his name."

"A taboo?" Hermione questioned, frowning at the unfamiliar use of the word and instantly wanting to know what Neville meant by it.

"Yeah, a taboo. That's a curse but then on a name, activated when someone says it. It can be quite nasty, but most just show the user where you are, so no one wanted to really try it out and say his name lest he or his followers appeared. But he's dead now, so the taboo should be gone too, but still no one wants to say it."

"That's understandable," Hermione admitted, "but also completely illogical. How can you _curse _a name and have the curse affect everyone that as much as utters that name? It's irrational, very much so even, because how can a curse encompass every living human _and _know exactly where a person is when a word is spoken? What if everyone said it together, would it still know then?"

Neville shrugged, "I don't, I've never really thought about it. It's just magic, I suppose, it just _is_."

Hermione let the matter drop after she glanced at Neville's face again, he was still pale and probably uncomfortable talking about it, no matter how brave a front he was trying to show.

The Hogwarts Express let out a shrill whistle as it started its trip to Hogwarts once more, the platform soon left behind them as they raced through the countryside in comfortable silence.

Some familiar people passed their compartment but none entered, but Hermione didn't mind, she was engrossed in her book once more as was Neville as they returned to Hogwarts.

* * *

**_Thank you for taking the time to read this._**

**_Volenta_**


End file.
